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‪"I didn't spend 8 hours in that damn medical seminar to have people call me ‘Mister'! Now hand me that electric turkey carver.” This is from a joke I pitched in my dream two nights ago. It may seem kind of hokey in the cold light of day, but believe me when I tell you that the writing staff of Cracked.com was eating it up. I think I got the job before I woke up.

I used to write a weekly blog about what projects I was working on and what was going on in my everyday life. These blogs were punctuated by essays and lists and after I went to write for Nerd Reactor in 2013, I kind of got the essays and lists out of my system for a while. It also should be said that most of my life isn’t very interesting and short of turning this site into a parenting blog, there’s not a whole lot to write about on that front.

As I write this, my son is not napping. He is supposed to be but instead he is lying in his bed hollering to himself and shouting out song lyrics. He has a taste for modern pop music so it is a lot of Taylor Swift and Uptown Funk. He has also been eating like a Mogwai that has plans to enter the “pupa stage”, which is to say, a lot.

Krampusnacht
by Rob Walker

Everyone knows of the man who brings toys
Every December
For good girls and boys

But few think about the angrier one
The things he hands out aren't very much fun.

He doesn't give presents or treasures or sweets
He hands out entirely different treats

To those who are naughty and ugly and mean
Painful punishment is what is foreseen

He carries no sack made of velveteen red

As I write this, my wife and I are preparing for a short trip to Los Angeles to attend the Guillermo del Toro At Home With Monsters exhibit at LACMA. I couldn’t be more excited and nervous to board an airplane and see some beautiful, magical and macabre art. I am also looking forward to seeing old friends eating at boutique food trucks and talking about life, pop culture and the election. Although, many of my friends may not want to talk about that last thing.

Parents
By Rob Walker

My mother and father are likely vampires,
Of this, I am reasonably sure.

They dress themselves in the darkest attires,
And the sunlight makes them demure

Their pallor's are fair,
Their eyes are both dark,
And they dance exceedingly well

They can glide across floors with the air of two cats,
It can put you under a spell

Their accents are thick,
Yet their countenance warm,
They will charm everyone whom they meet

The Stranger
By Rob Walker

Behind a face
Of two kind eyes
And a broad and toothy grin
Is a thing with fur
From head to toe
Wearing human skin

He's handsome and dashing
With a strong lantern jaw
His face seems incredibly kind

But there's something about the way he smiles
That gnaws at the back of your mind.

"Beware little one
These roads are harsh
With many a trap and pit
Perhaps I think it may be best
we walk together for a bit"

Last Friday I was able to share the stage with several talented people for the one night only performance of a project I have wanted to do for over a decade. If you occasionally drop in on my blog, you know that one of the fistful of projects I’ve been working on is a live radio theatre for Halloween. I am pleased to say that The House of Shadows seemed to go over really well. Our audience was much larger than expected and ranged in age from middle school students to senior citizens.

Under the Couch
By Rob Walker

Under the couch
Are dozens of toys
As well as a monster
Who eats little boys

He has long ragged claws
And a slobbery snout
And if I reach under
I'll never come out

He keeps guard over comic books
Chattering teeth
Monopoly pieces
All trapped underneath

Barbie doll heads call out with despair
While he uses their arms to comb
Greasy black hair

Picking his fangs with green army men,
An entire platoon in his cobwebby den

The Ticker-Tack Man
By Rob Walker

At 2:59 the streets are empty,
As quiet as a tomb

At 3 o'clock the silence broken,
With a clattering sound of doom

For the Ticker-Tack Man cleans the streets,
Before sunrise every morn

And if your not in bed by then,
You'll wish you were never born

You can hear him coming from far away,
With each step he takes

The tell-tale sound of "ticker-tack"
Is the only noise he makes

He's dapper in a tall top hat,
And dinner jacket tails

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